


Paradise In A War Zone

by verucasalt123



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: A Smidgen of Schmoop, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike doesn't mind when Angel has a rough day and takes out his frustrations in the bedroom</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise In A War Zone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmatheslayer/gifts).



Spike had barely registered Angel’s presence before he felt two strong hands gripping his shoulders and lifting him out of his chair. 

In a blink, his back hit the wall. His eyes flew open at the impact and a thrill ran through his mind and body when he recognized the look on Angel’s face. It had been a while since Spike had seen him that way; very few others they knew had ever seen it. What their friends or co-workers or casual acquaintances thought was Angel’s expression of anger was, in reality, much closer to annoyance or frustration. This look was not generally for public consumption, as most of those who had seen it hadn’t lived to tell the tale. 

Except for Spike, who knew this meant Angel’s working hours had gone exceptionally badly and that every ounce of that raw anger was going to be taken out on him. He stifled a smile and kept his eyes on Angel’s. 

It was no secret that that the two of them had a sexual relationship - to some it even looked like more than that, like it was a romantic or emotional relationship. It wasn’t very subtle when both of them would go missing for hours at a time after Angel had made it clear that he wasn’t to be disturbed for any reason, or when they weren’t fast enough to increase the physical distance between them when someone else entered a room. Spike wouldn’t call what they had _romance_ , but it was certainly more than just casual sex. 

Also not a secret - at least not from Angel - was that Spike didn’t mind a single bit when he was the object of Angel’s rough treatment, whether it was pent-up frustration from work or Angel was just in the mood to throw someone around. 

Well, not _someone_. Spike. When he was in the mood to throw Spike around. But it detracted from the experience for both of them when Spike openly welcomed it. 

So Spike did his bit, pushing back and struggling against Angel’s hold. He really didn’t have to play at it - Angel was older, and though Spike was exceptionally strong physically, Angel was stronger. If he really wanted to, Spike could probably get away when Angel stalked in with the intention of fucking him into any available surface, but he didn’t want to. 

Spike’s struggle only pushed Angel further into action, pinning Spike harder against the wall and kissing him with brute force. They both tasted the blood that came from the small cut on Spike’s lip and its effect was felt instantly. 

Angel pulled Spike away from the wall and onto the bed in one motion, leaving half of Spike’s shirt in his fist and the other half hanging from Spike’s shoulder. Immediately, out of habit and out of desire, Spike assumed the most submissive posture he could; lying on his back quiet and still, continuing to keep his eyes trained directly on Angel’s. 

Within a minute, Spike’s clothes were all ripped away (it was no worry, Angel always either replaced Spike’s ruined clothing when this happened or just handed over his credit card so Spike could get whatever he wanted) and Angel was busy sucking and licking and dragging his fangs over Spike’s exposed skin. Involuntarily, when Angel hit upon an especially sensitive area near his collarbone, Spike moaned out, “Fuck, Angel yeah, yeah, right there”. Before he even got a chance to say _please_ , he felt one of Angel’s hands tighten around his neck. It served a different purpose - Spike had no air supply for Angel to interfere with - it was just a display of dominance and an action that would, at least for an hour or two, leave nice bruises. 

Whispering right next to Spike’s ear, Angel responded, “Speak when I say you can, you know better”, as Spike shallowly nodded his head in understanding. 

Though a whole lot of preparation wasn’t strictly necessary, at least some was greatly appreciated on Spike’s part and enjoyed on Angel’s part because he knew what the teasing did to Spike. When he moved to push two lubricated fingers into Spike’s ass, Angel lowered his head and took Spike’s cock into his mouth. It wasn’t possible for Spike to hold back his cry of pleasure at the feeling, but that was all right, it wasn’t words, he wasn’t speaking, he was still following the rules. 

Moving back up so that he was hovering over Spike, whose legs were spread and who had still managed not to smile, Angel moved his head to the side and let his fangs sink into the meat of Spike’s shoulder. Spike howled and threw his head back. When Angel’s face returned to Spike’s vision, his mouth red with blood, Angel said, “You like that, like me to hurt you, yeah?”

Spike didn’t respond at first but realized as Angel smacked his cheek that he was supposed to answer the question. “I do, yes, I like it”, he replied, causing Angel to show him a terrifying smile. In the next moment, Angel slid his cock all the way into Spike, as deep as he could go, and started thrusting hard and fast. Small cuts and bruises were showing on Spike’s skin in several places where Angel bit and grabbed and pinched at him while he fucked the daylights out of him. 

So lost in the intensity, the pain/pleasure of the experience, Spike barely heard Angel speaking to him. Once he realized he was expected to speak, Angel was already gripping the skin on his hips hard enough to draw blood. “Words, boy, use your words. You _are_ my little bitch tonight, right?”

Without hesitation, Spike replied quietly, “I’m your bitch, Angel, of course, yes”, as Angel continued to push into him harder and faster. 

It must have been Spike’s lucky night, because as he noticed that Angel was getting close to his climax, he felt Angel reach down and start jerking Spike so that he would come, too. It wasn’t always like that on days like this, so Spike was exceptionally grateful. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before he spilled his release onto Angel’s fist and Angel gave a few final impossibly deep thrusts as his own orgasm took over.

Afterwards, Spike always just took his cues from Angel. If Angel just got up and went into the bathroom to clean himself off and re-dress, Spike would get under the covers and wait until Angel was finished and had left the room before he would go clean himself up. Then he’d find something to occupy his time because that was Angel’s signal that he didn’t want any more company. 

Those were rare occasions, though. Usually, like on this night, Angel would get a cloth and come back into bed to clean both of them up and lay with Spike, quietly. After a while Angel would start talking about what had gotten him into such a mood to begin with, and Spike would listen, sympathize, offer pointed opinions or pieces of advice. Finally, Spike would smile and laugh and so would Angel, who gently kissed all of Spike’s bruised and marked spots until the sun was almost coming up and they’d fall asleep next to each other. 

It might not be everyone’s cup of blood, or tea, or whatever, but it was what worked for them. At the end, Angel and Spike were in the place where they belonged. Together.


End file.
